My wife and I go to [Famous Swedish Furniture Store]. I’m tired after a long day at work, so I sit down on one of their chairs and guard the stuff we’ve picked out so far.

A guy grabs something from our pile of stuff and starts walking away. I follow him.

Me: “Hey! Give that back! That’s mine! Hey!”

He brings it to his wife and kids.

Customer: “The cats will love this. And look, it’s on clearance!”

Me: *Catching up to him* “Hey, my wife and I already picked that out, and I was guarding it.”

Customer: “Sorry, I thought you were some homeless person taking a nap on the chair.”

Me: “Look, can I have the laundry hamper back, please?”

Customer: “It’s a cat castle. If you’d really picked it out, you would know what it was.”

Me: “It says laundry hamper on the tag. Please, I was guarding it for my wife.”

Customer’s Wife: “Honey, just give it back to him. We can find another.”

Customer: “Fine. It’s your fault if our cats don’t get this cool cat castle.”

I didn’t even reply. I just walked back to the chair and put it back on our pile of stuff.

I work for a bubble tea shop. Bubble tea is a flavoured milk or tea drink that usually comes with tapioca balls — the “bubbles” — and in our place, we add them by default unless asked to remove them or replace them with another item.

A customer I have just served comes up to me and slams her drink on the counter.

Customer: “What the f*** is this?! Your drink is rotten!”

Me: “What do you mean, ma’am? The milk is fresh, and the flavoring is powdered.”

Customer: “Your milk has curdled! It’s full of disgusting lumps!”

Me: “Those are tapioca balls, ma’am. They’re part of the drink.”

Customer: “They’re disgusting! I didn’t ask for this disgusting Asian s***!”

Me: *Trying to ignore the casual racism* “Ma’am, they’re a major part of the bubble tea experience, and they’re mentioned on the menu and when you order from us. If you like, I can remake your drink without the tapioca.”

Customer: “I want a refund and a free drink!”

Me: “You’re not getting a refund.”

Customer: “Why not?!”

Me: “The same reason you don’t get a refund in [Fast Food Chain] when you order a burger and you didn’t want the patty.”

Customer: “Well… that’s not fair! I don’t know all this Asian crap!”

Me: “Our menu is in English.”

Customer: “I’m going to write a bad review online about you!”

Me: “Woman complains that her bubble tea contains bubbles. Can’t wait to read it.”

She stormed out, minus her drink. No bad review ever appeared.

I’m busy stocking shelves when I notice a customer behind me browsing.

Me: “Oh, hello, sir. Can I help you?”

Customer: “No, thanks. I’m just looking.”

Then, a voice from across the store calls.

Voice: “FRAAAANK!

Customer: “But I can help you. Never get married.”

And then he was gone.

Recently, in a last-ditch attempt to get out of a severe depression fit, I decided to enroll at a local disabled-access swimming session at the pool. I’m not only disabled but also, because of my depression and disabilities, pretty overweight. I was so proud of taking this step out of the house and away from my severely depressed thoughts.

When I got to the changing room, though, I heard a woman say something while pointing at me.

Woman: “Look at that fat lazy slob.”

It didn’t stop. Even when I’d managed to get into the pool, leaving my walking aids on the side, this woman kept following me with her friends, saying things like:

Woman: “Fat isn’t a disability.”

Woman: “She should lay off the cakes.”

Woman: “We shouldn’t have to make space for fat lazy [censored].”

And finally, to my face, she said:

Woman: “Get out. No, seriously. Leave. None of us want to see your flab.”

They got in my way when I tried to swim. I was crying at this point.

I tried to get the attention of a lifeguard, but they weren’t interested. I got out, got my canes, staggered to the lifeguard again, and said I was being bullied and told to get out.

Lifeguard: *Shrugging* “If you’re not drowning, it’s not my job.”

So, I went and got dressed in the changing room, and this woman followed me!

Woman: “You’re not disabled, just fat. Accept it! Lose weight before subjecting us to your fat slobby body in a swimming suit. You look disgusting!”

I left. I tried to complain to reception that this disabled-inclusive session was anything BUT. I was told that they couldn’t police the opinions of other disabled swimmers.

I haven’t been back.

I worked in the dairy department at a grocery store. I was filling the yogurt section and had a large Boston cart on the floor to do it. The store often had a lot of floor displays in the middle of the aisle — an annoying corporate policy — and they took up a lot of space, so I had to park my cart as close to me as possible.

As I was working, two customers came into the aisle on either side of my cart, making it impossible for me to move. A third customer came down the aisle and began to make those scoffing noises that always precede a righteous tirade.

Customer: “CAN YOU MOVE YOUR CART, PLEASE?!”

Obviously, I was unable to do so. I was polite, shrugged, gestured to the people and giant displays surrounding me, apologized, and told her to have a nice day. The other two customers were otherwise occupied. The third customer grumbled something about how this was unacceptable and angrily went up front.

About five minutes later, the store manager calmly walked up with the customer, who was all but foaming at the mouth, waiting for him to rip me a new one.

Manager: “What happened?”

I explained.

Manager: *Calmly* “Next time, move the cart as best you can.”

The woman absolutely DEFLATED when he didn’t fire me on the spot. As she headed back to the front of the store, defeated and crestfallen, the manager turned back to me.

Manager: “You’re fine. I don’t fault you at all, man. She was a total b**** to everyone.”